


A Stranger Within My House

by Nomader



Series: Partners [6]
Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Serious differences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomader/pseuds/Nomader
Summary: It takes a considerable shock to strike Slim Sherman dumb. Jess Harper, on the other hand, has a lot to say. The trouble is that a previous frank discussion of fundamentally different principles means they are no longer really talking to each other. The consequences could change everything. (This story is part of an m/m series of stories, Partners, as indicated in the Archive Warnings and is intended for those who like this imaginative interpretation. The stories are strictly about fictional characters and not intended to reflect on the original actors.)
Relationships: Jess Harper/Slim Sherman
Series: Partners [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1255892
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

##  **1**

_‘Not telling the truth is the quickest way to turn yourself into a stranger.’_

Mark W. Perrett

“You did what!”

Slim Sherman’s voice rose harshly, full of total disbelief.

“I shot the sheriff,” Jess Harper reiterated calmly.

“You ... shot _..._ the sheriff,” Slim repeated slowly through clenched teeth.

“Yeah.”

The two young men stared at each other for a long minute. They were sitting out on the porch in the peace of the evening, but the atmosphere was suddenly anything but peaceful.

“You _shot_ the sheriff.”

“Well, I sure didn’t shoot the deputy!” Jess was getting fed up with the repetition of the obvious and tried to lighten the mood with a little humour.

Slim turned a frozen stare on him. “You shot the sheriff while you were his deputy. You were the one who was sworn to support him, the one who was supposed to have his back - and you shot him.”

Jess didn’t move or respond. The cold look might just have turned him to ice on the spot.

From the kitchen window, Jonesy could see the young Texan’s face. It was devoid of the bitter pain Jonesy knew was in his heart. His own heart was sore too because he had been urging Jess to come clean about the whole affair at Rock Springs and to trust Slim. This evening such advice seemed like a mighty bad idea.

There was another prolonged silence while Slim obviously wrestled with his disbelief that Jess could have done any such thing. It was an uncomfortable while before he demanded: “Why?”

“He was aimin’ t’ steal the money from the bank robbery,” Jess explained quietly.

“That’s not what it says here!” Slim grabbed the latest edition of the _Laramie Gazette_ from the floor where he had dropped it in his shock and brandished it in Jess’s expressionless face. The newspaper was the lever which had set in motion a rockfall of revelation and condemnation.

 _\- Now they’re gettin’ to it! –_ Jonesy waited with his heart in his mouth.

“That’s because I made sure they didn’t know the true story.”

“You told the Rock Springs townsfolk that their sheriff had been killed retrieving the money and it wasn’t true?” Slim asked incredulously. “Why would a sheriff steal it?”

“He was desperate t’ get away with his woman,” Jess explained, just as calmly as before. “He figured he’d been given a chance t’ win her, if he took what was his for the takin’. He’d’ve done anything for her.” He did not add his own view that the woman in question was not worth it.

“You’re saying he was a thief ... a criminal ... and you ...... you covered up for him? You lied!”

The utter disbelief and condemnation in Slim’s voice had Jonesy banging his head, albeit gently, against the window frame. – _How in heaven’s name’s Jess gonna convince Slim he acted with good intentions? Sure he knows now the choice he made ain’t necessarily the best one, but he was tryin’ to save the man’s reputation. –_

“Yeah.” Jess was not trying to hide what he had done. He just wanted Slim to understand why. “He was worth it - a good man.”

“Good men don’t steal!” Slim retorted. “And good men don’t lie.”

His heart was thumping and the blood pounding in his head as he tried to grasp the enormity of what Jess had told him. He thought he could trust the Texan. He thought they had the same ideals of justice and truth. He believed they could work together. He hoped they were becoming firm friends.

Now all that was shattered. It had no more substance or consistency than a cloud driven before the storm wind. And this changed everything. Into his mind there flashed a verse from the Psalms, a favourite of his father’s, which had always made a deep impression on him, a challenge and a standard: ‘ _He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house: he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight_.’

Slim had invited Jess to become part of the household, part of the family of the Sherman Ranch. Why hadn’t he heeded Jonesy’s misgivings on that first day? Why hadn’t he seen through the specious attractiveness of the unknown traveller? Why hadn’t he realised the warnings in the clashes they’d had over people from Jess’s past? Like Andy, he was guilty of ‘messin’ about with a loner he don’t know nuthin’ about’ _._

The thought of Andy hardened Slim’s resolution. It was difficult enough having sole responsibility for bringing up a young boy, without the interference of someone whose standards fell so far short of his own. Jess had already got Andy to lie when Roany Bishop had arrived at the relay station. Slim vividly remembered their confrontation then, Jess’s stubborn refusal to explain anything, and his own order: “You got any lies to tell after this, you tell them yourself.” It sure looked like Jess had been making notes exactly as he said he would.

“He was a good man,” Jess persisted, still quietly. He wanted Slim to understand, even though it seemed that his righteous-minded boss had already condemned both him and Hatch. “He was brave an’ stern but kindly with it. Good at readin’ situations an’ talkin’ to people so they understood what was right. Gave them room for their pride but not for wrongdoin’. He upheld the law. Did a fine job for the townsfolk.”

“Upheld the law? He robbed them!” Slim snapped, deeply angry because he, like Jess, knew what the loss of their savings would mean to those people. “No sheriff worth the name does that.”

“He was a fine sheriff! He just once stepped across the line he’d drawn for himself. Just once.”

“It only takes once!” Slim was adamant.

“Yeah. One mistake an’ a man’s condemned, no matter how much good he did in his life. I tried to make sure people remembered the good.”

“And that’s your answer, your excuse for lying and perverting the law and justice?” Slim demanded furiously.

Jess’s entire body tensed, poised like a hawk on the wing about to strike, and he looked Slim straight in the eyes. For the first time, his voice strengthened, stark and resolute, repeating the words he’d used before. “That’s all the answer y’re gonna get from me!”

As the defiant declaration rang in the air, Jonesy groaned softly and bitterly and bowed his head and closed his eyes. He heard the clatter of a rocking chair against the boards and the thud of boots down the porch steps. Forcing himself to look up, he caught a glimpse of Jess as he strode across the yard towards the corral and the barn. Despite knowing that Jess was perfectly capable of looking after himself, Jonesy found himself thinking frantically. – _Is he gonna leave? Ride out tonight with nowhere t’ lay his head? –_ The old cook was cursing his own advice and wanting at the same time to shake Slim till his teeth rattled. Except he couldn’t. He knew why Slim felt the way he did about telling the true story.

There was no sound from the porch. Slim remained sitting silently with only his angry and hurtful thoughts for company. Presently Jonesy crept to his bed. It was a long time before Slim came in to sleep. And Jess ... not at all.

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

First to rise, as usual, the very first thing Jonesy did was to check the top bunk. The blankets were still tucked in. The pillow undented. There were no clothes hanging from the bedpost. No dark head half-buried under the quilt.

Jonesy heaved a sigh and made his way to the kitchen, as usual, to get breakfast. And as usual, he made provision for Jess’s ravenous appetite. He knew Jess had not ridden out the night before and he refused to believe the Texan would miss a meal, no matter how painful things had been then. He just hoped he was right!

As usual, Slim appear some minutes later, muttered a greeting and went out to wash and to shave. – _Is he gonna run into Jess at the pump_? – It was unlikely, given their normal routine, but Jonesy still had a few tense moments until Slim came in and sat down at the table. - _Now what’s gonna happen? –_

It was anyone’s guess.

Jonesy got on with serving up the breakfast. Slim helped himself. There were none of their usual casual exchanges. If Slim knew Jonesy knew that he and Jess had ended their conversation in anger, he did not show it, but he was obviously not his usual cheerful, communicative self either. Jonesy was about to challenge him on his mood when Andy surfaced for the day and stumbled his way to his chair. It didn’t take long for the youngster to register that something was not right.

“Where’s Jess?” he demanded in total surprise.

Before either of the others could answer the front door opened and Jess strolled in, looking exactly as he always did after his reluctant rising and a wash under the pump. He was still buttoning up his shirt, as usual. Water glinted in his dark hair and a few drops trickled down the curving brown muscles of his chest, exactly as usual.

Not that Slim noticed any such thing ... naturally.

“Heck, Jess! I didn’t know you could get up so early!” Andy grinned by way of greeting.

“Guess there’s always something y’ can learn,” Jess replied with an answering grin as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

“Oh, yeah? You must’ve been up in the middle of the night,” Andy said curiously. “ ’Cause your bunk’s all tidy like it ain’t been slept in.”

Jess reached for the coffee. “Thought Zig was lookin’ a touch rough last night,” he responded easily. “I wanted t’ make sure he wasn’t gonna go down with colic.”

Andy nodded in understanding. He knew, because Jess had told him, that sometimes Jess would sleep in the stall with his horse, rather than risk something happening to the animal.

Slim frowned. He knew Jess was lying to spare Andy the worry his absence from the bedroom would otherwise cause. Lying again.

Jonesy frowned too. - _If anyone was feelin’ rough last night, it was Jess! –_ he thought to himself, but there didn’t seem to be much he could do to put things right. Not over the breakfast table, anyway.

“Extra early stage today,” Slim reminded them all.

“I got the team ready,” Jess said. When Slim gave him a hard questioning look, he went on: “I was in the barn. Seemed like a good way t’ pass the time.” He stood up, despite having had only one helping, pushed back his chair and carried his plate through to the kitchen, saying over his shoulder as he did so, “Thanks, Jonesy.”

\- _Y’ ain’t got much t’ thank me for, –_ the old cook thought, but he appreciated that Jess did not seem to be holding a grudge for the way things had turned out. At any rate, the Texan disappeared through the kitchen door without further comment, presumably to get on with the rest of the barn tasks.

“Gee, he’s raring to go today!” Andy commented as he shovelled his breakfast down. “We’ll have to run to catch up with him.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Slim admonished, declining to comment on Jess’s unusual behaviour. The disturbance of their usual routine wasn’t disconcerting him ... at all.

“Guess he was maybe up most of the night, Andy,” Jonesy put in.

“So? He should be even sleepier than normal,” Andy pointed out.

“Less chat, more chores!” Slim told them, pushing back his own chair and starting to clear the dishes.

“Leave them,” Jonesy ordered. “Jess ain’t gonna manage all the outside work on his own. Andy an’ me can deal with the washin’ up, as y’ know full well.”

Slim frowned again, looking momentarily uncertain at Jonesy’s reaction. Then he shrugged and took down his hat and jacket from the pegs behind the door. “When the stage has gone through, we’ll be up on the south ridge, repairing the fence.”

“Bet Jess’ll enjoy that!” Jonesy muttered under his breath. No Texan was ever going to like fencing instead of riding the open range.

“He’ll do as he’s told!” Slim snapped over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him.

“I bet he will – if y’ give the right orders,” Jonesy retorted under his breath. He had no doubt that today Slim was going to get the orders wrong in every respect. As things transpired, his foreboding did not come true in quite the way he envisaged.

The additional extra-early stage rolled in almost before they had finished clearing the table and there was scarcely time to brew more coffee. For once, when the driver, Mose, stomped in he was not bent on getting a decent breakfast to supplement the one he’d already had in Laramie but just started hassling Jonesy for a quick cup of coffee.

“What’s the all-fire hurry?” the cook demanded. “Ain’t this early stage early enough for y’?”

“Not early enough for the bank,” Mose grunted as he swigged down his coffee and held out the cup for a refill. “Ain’t no passengers. Gotta go straight through Cheyenne an’ on t’ Denver, t’ pick up a payroll f’ the line itself and funds the bank needs f’ loans. Same on the way home.”

“Y’ comin’ straight back?” Jonesy asked disbelievingly.

“Overnight in Denver,” Mose told him. “But yeah, once we get there, we come back the next day.”

“Be missin’ the high life then!” Jonesy grinned.

“More to the point, we’re missin’ a guard!” The door had opened behind them and the one of the men riding shotgun appeared, his face twisted with worry.

“What’s up, Jake?” Mose jumped to his feet just as Slim and Jess staggered in, supporting an obviously sick stage-guard between them.

“Guess Pete ate somethin’ that ain’t agreein’ with him,” the other guard said grimly, as his colleague wretched painfully.

“Get him in the bedroom!” Jonesy snapped. “Andy, fetch a bucket and towel. And there’s hot water on the stove. Bring me some in a basin too.”

“Thanks, Jonesy,” Pete groaned feebly as he was deposited on the bed closest to the door.

Leaving Jonesy to attend to his patient, the rest of them retreated to the main room. Mose and Jake exchanged worried looks.

“Delay ain’t gonna please the company or the bank!” Jake pointed out, “But I got Silas an’ Rick changin’ the team. We’ll have t’ leave Pete here.”

“That’s fine,” Slim assured them. “You know Jonesy’ll take good care of him and we can send for the doctor if need be.”

“That leaves us a guard short,” Mose said worriedly. “Bank manager was fierce about havin’ enough men on guard.”

“We could pick up another in Denver,” Jake suggested.

Mose shook his head. “We’re supposed t’ keep this real quiet, once we get clear o’ Laramie. The bank insisted on local men, or I’d be drivin’ an empty stage right through.”

Slim, as a responsible employee of the line, agreed with him. “You can’t risk taking on someone you don’t know, even if they do work for the stage line.” He thought for a few seconds and then ordered firmly: “Jess’ll go with you.”

Mose grinned. “Sure be glad t’ have him. Ain’t a better shot round here.”

“Let’s hope that’s gonna be the same all the way t’ Denver,” Jonesy commented from the bedroom doorway, as he came out to get one of his herbal remedies for the sick man.

Jess simply shrugged. “I’ve been in Denver,” he reminded them as he buckled on his gunbelt, grabbed his rifle from the rack, and took down his jacket and hat. “Let’s get goin’. If this is supposed t’ be an extra-early run, supper’ll be at midnight.”

“Take care, Jess!” Andy piped up anxiously, clutching the bowl of hot water for Jonesy to his heart. He’d seen Jonesy deal with enough wounded men for it to trigger a vision of the next one being Jess.

Jess dropped a firm hand on his shoulder and gave him a little shake. “I’m in good company. We’ll be back before y’ know it.”

\- _Would they? –_

The fear was not entirely banished from Andy’s mind, but he put on a brave smile. The same thought was in Jonesy’s mind, along with the unresolved issue of his recent advice. And as the stage rolled away and gathered speed, Slim was thinking the same thing too. And uneasily. He had made a swift decision, based simply on which of them could most readily be spared from the ranch. Now he was not so sure.

\- _Can Jess really be trusted anymore? –_

It was a question still echoing at the back of his mind as Slim sat at his desk, his head bent over the accounts books, his pen idle in his hand. He had elected not to sit on the porch this evening, even though it should have been pleasant to relax as usual at the end of a long and disrupted working day. Fortunately Pete had rallied sufficiently under Jonesy’s capable treatment for Slim to be able to drive him back to Laramie where he handed the sick man over to the doctor.

Now Slim was home again. But not to sit on the porch. He had forgotten how it felt to be solitary out there at the end of the day. He had not realised how his evenings had been filled with comfortable conversation – experiences on the cattle trail, reminiscences of military life, tall tales from the Texan’s travels, jokes delivered with such a poker face it nearly always fooled him ...

He had forgotten so quickly what it was like to have to wait for company, to see if Jonesy would decide to join him or, as was more usual, chose to follow Andy shortly after the youngster had been hounded to his rest by the insistence of his elders.

\- _Andy! He’s missing Jess already. Afraid he won’t come back. –_ And then the thought: _\- Maybe that’s why you sent him away? –_ It was a thought Slim did not want to address. – _His horse and all his gear are here! He’s not going to leave permanently without them! –_ Slim told himself firmly.

And the thought of Jess leaving for good was not one he was going to dwell on. - _Not tonight, anyway_. – Not while he was still struggling to decide whether Jess could go on living at the ranch or not.

When he finally gave up his attempt to concentrate on the bookkeeping and went to bed, the top bunk, which had been unoccupied for years, seemed even emptier than it had the night before. Maybe because he knew Jess was many miles away and going into the danger Slim had chosen for him.


	2. Chapter 2

##  **2**

It was a long way to Denver. One guard rode up top with the driver, as usual. The rest of them were inside, playing the part of passengers in the hope no-one would notice anything usual about the run. Jess was inside at first and thankful that the other two quickly fell into an uneasy doze. He was not in the mood for conversation.

He was not in the mood for thinking much, either, and before long followed the example of his companions. He had had little enough sleep the night before when his mind had simply churned round and round the conversation with Slim, struggling to see where he had gone wrong. He’d tried to be calm and clear and not reveal the deep pain of Hatch’s betrayal which he still felt. Nor did he want his frustration at the misunderstanding between them to burst out into anger. It was not Slim’s fault things had turned out the way they did with Hatch. But he had not succeeded in making Slim understand either. He had seen Slim change. It was not _\- thank y’ lucky stars! -_ to the all too familiar expression of fear and hatred and the desire to kill. Yet it was worse in a way. Worse to see such a gulf opening between them, driven by the power of Slim’s view of the right way to act in conflict with his own.

But even after a more or less sleepless night, Jess’s thoughts were uneasy inhabitants of his dozing state _. – Where’re we gonna go from here? –_ Jonesy thought Jess could trust Slim not to reject him – that this fledgling bond of friendship was stronger than so many Jess had experienced. And Jess trusted Jonesy’s wisdom. Maybe Slim would calm down? Maybe he’d come round to seeing another point of view? After all, he’d trusted Jess enough to send him on this important mission.

\- _Maybe y’ fooling y’self! Lettin’ y’ fancy dress up the facts! -_

Was it trust? Or was it the belief that Jess would disregard his duty to the stage line and decide to take off again on his own once he got as far away as Denver? He could do so easily enough. It would mean leaving Zig behind and all his gear, but at least the horse would be with Andy. The two had already formed a bond as strong as the one between Zig – _or Traveller accordin’ t’ Andy! -_ and his owner. If Jess had to lose his horse, then he would rather Andy had him than any other way. And he could make good his losses easily enough, if only in terms of money. He’d won enough to buy Zig in a poker school and had often kept himself in funds through the game. He was a skilful player and not above using the tricks he had shown Andy if need be. It wasn’t his preferred method of earning his living, but in Denver it was a certain one. And if the worst came to the worse, he could always hire out his gun again.

Which led him to think more about Slim’s intentions in sending him on this journey. _\- Is he hopin’ something’ll happen and y’ll just get killed? -_

That jolted him fully awake again. Where had his thoughts led him?

\- _Jonesy says Slim always acts honest and true_. _Always! He ain’t gonna use a lowdown trick like that!_ –

Shame seized Jess for his doubts. He remembered all the welcome and encouragement – _yeah, and trust!_ – Slim had shown to a wandering stranger. He remembered the way they had fought side by side and hammered miles of fencing and eaten at the same table and leant on the same bar together. His heart shuddered as he thought of losing the easy companionship which had grown between them, of never feeling Slim’s arm over his shoulder as they sang to Jonesy’s playing, of never sharing the warm silence of evening on the porch, of never seeing sky-blue eyes light up with an amusement Jess had sparked in them.

It was hard to bear the memory of the icy coldness of those eyes when Slim condemned what Jess had chosen to do. The irony of it did not escape him. He had been trying to adapt to the standards of the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station and to show he could earn some respectability befitting a responsible member of the new community he found himself in. All he had succeeded in doing was the exact opposite.

_\- Sure is y’ own fault. Jonesy’s showed y’ there were other ways. –_

Now responsibility carried him down the long road to Denver. When the stage eventually got there, they were all glad to hit the hotel, the bath-house and the bar in the time available before they had to start back to Laramie. They’d made an overnight stop on the way south but aimed to leave Denver well before sun-up and complete the return journey if possible in a single day. Jess went along with the others for a while. He was still undecided about what road he should take in the future. For now, he was simply glad to stop travelling at the end of this particular one. They ate and drank together, but knowledge of their duties in the morning kept them relatively sober and ready to turn in early.

Jess found himself alone. – _Couldn’t be much more alone if Slim had told y’ t’ get out! –_ Suddenly the fear of that rejection was like a real wound, as if someone had actually stabbed him with a knife. Indeed, he would have born the physical pain more easily than the blow to his often-abused trust. Because he wanted Slim to trust him, in the same way he was learning to trust the rancher. When he considered it frankly, Jess knew that at first he had simply lusted after the tall blond and his desire for greater intimacy had been purely physical. Yet as he worked alongside Slim, sharing his life, something had changed. The desire was still as strong as ever, but Jess’s formidable willpower was holding it in check to his deepening respect for the man.

Tired, uncertain and frustrated as he was, he was enough of a realist to see the obvious solution. – _Hell, y’ need t’ get laid! How long’s it been? Too long, that’s for sure if y’ ain’t thinkin’ straight about the straightest man y’ve ever met! -_

He deliberately turned his mind away from the last time he’d had company. It would not help him to remember comfort and companionship when all he needed was some physical release. There were opportunities enough in Denver, if you knew how to read the right signs. Jess left the saloon where they had all eaten and made his way swiftly towards a bar fitting his objective, his mind intent on carrying out his decision. Soon he was leaning against the counter of another, less frequented establishment, nursing a whiskey and a cigarette. It was at this point that fate decided to take a hand.

Or rather, a heavy hand suddenly fell on his shoulder.

And a grating voice, which still retained an odd and sinister formality, fell on his unwilling ear.

“Well, if it isn’t Jess Doran? What a pleasure to see you, boy!”

Jess shrugged off the hand, his own flashing to his gun faster than the man behind him could draw breath. As he turned swiftly to face the speaker the gun was in the man’s ribs. Jess raised an eyebrow and said coldly, “That kinda behaviour can get y’ killed, Stronberg.”

“Whoa!” The man threw up his hands with an ingratiating smile which did not reach his eyes. “Maybe I forgot you’re the fastest kid with a gun this side of the Rockies.”

Jess holstered his gun slowly and deliberately, never taking his own eyes off Stronberg. The eyebrow remained raised too.

Stronberg backed off a couple of paces. He had known a wild, scrawny kid, destined for prison and conscription into an increasingly drawn out and desperate war. He was faced with a young man of whipcord and steel with a very unpleasant glint in his eye. All the same, Stronberg was not going to give up – he needed this fast gun on his side.

“Så! You are no kid. It has been some years.”

Jess inclined his head slightly, though his expression, with the exception of the eyebrow, did not relax and would have suggested to anyone of greater perception that ‘years’ had not been long enough. His gaze flicked over Stronberg and the three men crowded close behind him. He said nothing. He was thinking furiously in more ways than one.

“Life treating you well?” Stronberg asked, a tinge of mockery in his tone. “Only we saw you riding shotgun on an Overland stage.”

Giving a silent curse that it had been his turn as they came into Denver, Jess nodded again. His previous encounter with Kurt Stronberg and his gang had very little to recommend it. Consequently he had an unpleasantly pessimistic feeling about where this conversation was going. He was absolutely right.

“Thought we might be able to offer you something better,” the gang leader continued. “Definitely more ... rewarding, you might say.”

“Safer too!” one of his men added with a grin.

Jess’s chin went up and his eyes narrowed with the piercing focus of a raptor on its prey. The man moved back a pace involuntarily, but Jess just growled: “Such as?”

“You worked well with us before, Jess,” Stronberg reminded him with a cosy familiarity which sent chills down the spine. “Very convenient that you’re already on the job so to speak. Placed exactly where we need you for what we have in mind.”

“On a stage?”

“Ja. You see we’re aiming to take the easy way. Ride along in the stage and when it’s travelled a good way north, there’ll be an unfortunate accident in a nice deep gulley. Then we take off with the payroll and whatever else the bank is shipping.”

“On y’ own two feet?” Jess’s voice nicely blended sarcasm and disbelief.

“No,” his informant laughed aloud. “We can take horses when we need them. But until then, it’ll just be a stage with some passengers. Like it was on the way here. Same crew the relay stations will recognise. No ambush. No hold up. We’ll be riding along with the loot till we’re ready to ride away with it.”

This caused considerable laugher from his followers. Jess looked them all over coolly and remarked, “That stage ain’t takin’ payin’ passengers!”

“Bless you, boy, we do not intend to pay!”

More laughter.

“No, we’ll join the stage at the first relay station outside Denver and ride along with the guards and the driver.” Stronberg informed him. “Rest of my men’ll be meeting us over the border into Canada.”

“They sure must trust you!” Jess commented sardonically.

“Just like you do, my young friend!” Stronberg flung an arm round Jess’s shoulders and turned him towards the bar. “Let’s drink to your new career.”

Jess shrugged and dislodged the unwelcome arm at the same time. But he was crowded against the bar and had little option but to accept the whiskey which was pressed upon him. It was obvious the gang members intended to make a night of it, but their leader surprisingly curtailed any heavy drinking.

“You’ll stay sober. This job is not going to fail because you lot were swilling beer all night!”

“Can think of somethin’ else we can do all night instead,” one of the men suggested with a wink. “Y’re always willin’, ain’t y’, Doran!” He made a half move to grab Jess and instantly found himself with a knife blade pricking against his groin.

“You get any closer t’ me an’ y’ gonna be missin’ some parts you might need,” the young man told him casually. “Ain’t no one ever taught y’ to ask nicely?” Then, tucking his knife away just as casually, he turned back to Stronberg. “Stage line’s got the same ideas as you. No drinkin’ all night. I gotta get back t’ the hotel.”

“So you do,” the gang leader smiled genially – or about as genially as a rattler ready to strike. “You rooming on your own, Jess?”

Jess shook his head and gave a sardonic grin. “Y’ think the stage line’s gonna pay f’ us t’ sleep in luxury? Y’ gotta be kidding. An’ the boys’ll send out a search party if I ain’t back soon. That driver keeps a tighter rein on us than he does the horses!”

Stronberg leered at him and remarked, “I’m willing to bet they’ll send out a search party. Pity you’re already spoken for. I guess one or two of my men wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you all night – always supposing they ask nicely – høflig! - of course.”

Jess shrugged. “Ain’t no company f’ me tonight.” He gave another wry grin. “More sleep, though.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe, if you are to be trusted, you should not be in quite such a hurry? Especially as now I need to consider how I can stop you opening that mouth of yours for speaking, not swallowing, and giving away all our plans?” Stronberg mused as if to himself. “No doubt you will remember we have our own way of getting rid of witnesses – a very slow way?”

The steely blue gaze of the eyes levelled at Stronberg’s face never flickered. “Ain’t a habit y’ forget.”

“The relay station owner’s wife and kids are in town. We’ve already made sure to give them a friendly escort home this evening and left a real gentleman to guard them tonight. So ... keep quiet about what’s planned and, when we board that stage, they can live. If the crew show any sign they’re prepared for us, they’ll die along with all those folk at the relay station. And every soul at the place we stop to pick up horses as well. Du forstår? Your choice.”

Some time later, as he made his way back to the hotel, Jess was still thinking furiously. - _Du forstår? They’d all learnt that expression. Stronberg’s way of underlining his orders! -_ He understood alright. He had no illusions about the seriousness of Stronberg’s threat. _– Hell, the man would torture simply t’ get his revenge! An’ there ain’t no way he’s gonna leave any witnesses, no matter what he promises. –_ He was certain as well that someone would be watching the Sheriff’s Office and the bank to make sure he didn’t try to give a warning there either.

He was going to have to be very careful and very sparing with the truth and very obviously trustworthy. Too many people’s lives depended upon his choices now. He had only what was left of the night to decide. Dawn would come too soon.

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

Fortunately the nightmare was a silent one.

He made it out of the hotel before he threw up.

He spent the rest of the night in the livery stables.

Next morning no-one knew.


	3. Chapter 3

##  **3**

The morning after Jess’s departure saw Slim rolling out of bed in a thoroughly irritable frame of mind. To start with, he had not been able to drop off to sleep as usual. Instead he was acutely aware of the empty top bunk and the absence of the lithe, muscular frame which was usually outlined beneath the blankets. Jess was a quiet sleeper. Once he had burrowed under the covers, he would turn on his side, then roll further over until he was almost face down, one hand always thrust under his pillow as if this would keep him safe through the night. Sometimes the other arm and hand would be stretched out as if he were reaching for something or someone he needed. But he rarely stirred. Slim just knew he was there, even when he himself was sleeping.

The routine of the day served only to reinforce his awareness of a Jess-shaped space in it. Slim washed and shaved as usual, but found himself expecting to brush by Jess as they passed each other on the porch. At breakfast there was food left over: it was as if Jonesy had deliberately set out to remind Slim that Jess wasn’t there. When the stages rolled in, the horses were restless and much more awkward than when Jess was handling them. Repairs to the fencing took more than twice as long without the Texan hauling on the wire, his arms and shoulders and chest taut under his worn shirt, his boots dug into the earth as if he’d grown there, his thighs braced in his ...

Slim was not thinking about anything of the kind ... naturally. Instead he wanted very much to curse Jess for landing them in this situation and for not being there to do his share of the work. But Slim was also essentially fair-minded and knew it was his own doing as much as Jess’s. All day he laboured on his own, without anyone to consult, reminisce or joke with. All day he resolutely told himself he missed the help, not the companionship.

By evening, he was no less irritable and considerably more confused than he had been on rising that morning. He was still not certain whether he should tell Jess to leave or not.

When supper was over, he retreated to his desk and tried to concentrate once more on the paperwork, but all the time he was conscious of a miserable Andy, who had moped about all day, now slouched over his books at the table. It was a relief when Jonesy called a halt to schoolwork and chivvied Andy off to bed.

Slim took this as his cue to do a final night-check of the barn and the corral. When he returned to the house, Jonesy was sitting bolt upright on one of the dining chairs which he had obviously carried out on to the porch.

“What’s wrong with the rocking chair?” Slim asked, irritated once more. It was not going to do Jonesy’s back any good lugging furniture around.

The old man gave him a long, shrewd look. “Rockin’ ain’t gonna suit m’ back tonight. Anyway, that’s Jess’s chair.”

“Oh, so he’s got his own chair now? When he’s scarcely got his feet under the table?”

Unexpectedly Jonesy gave a chuckle. It sounded affectionate. So did his next words. “I guess he ain’t had so many tables in his life where he’s sure his feet’r welcome. Even fewer where he can eat his fill.”

“He’ll be owning the house next, as well as eating us out of it!” Slim snarled. He was not inclined to be reasonable. Jonesy had been a fixture in his life all his life. He did not need him taking someone else’s side.

“You invited him,” Jonesy pointed out.

“Yeah. A stranger into the house. A stranger who could act any damn way. You know what he did in Rock Springs?”

“Sure. He told me. The mornin’ after he got home.”

The word ‘home’ made Slim snort and clench his teeth. He looked at his old friend and supporter with reproof in his eyes. “And you were going to tell me ... when?”

“I figured it was Jess’s right t’ tell y’. It’s what he was needin’ an’ wantin’ t’ do. T’ tell y’ himself, not t’ let y’ hear it from someone else. T’ set things right.”

“How can he set things right? He lied, Jonesy!” Slim’s voice was low but laced with pain. “He lied about a robbery. He lied to a whole town of people.”

“He had reasons,” Jonesy asserted firmly. “He did what he thought was right at the time.”

He was watching Slim closely. He knew his young friend and boss as well as anyone. He knew his beliefs and standards. Slim would always strive to do what he reasoned was right. The difficulty was going to be getting him to open his mind to the beliefs which moved someone else to act differently. At this moment Slim’s face was as set as his principles and his lips were locked in a hard line. Yet Jonesy could see a change in his eyes – a dimming of their lightness as if this conflict was another blow, another grief.

Presently Jonesy broke the silence. “Did he tell y’ why?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, he told me why! He told me he lied because the sheriff was a good man. Because he was worthy of being lied about. Because the townsfolk needed to think he was honest.” Slim’s disgust was evident in every word he uttered, but underneath Jonesy could detect something else – a deeply felt but equally deeply supressed sense of loss. Slim had an ideal and Jess had not measured up to it. “Good men don’t steal and good men don’t tell lies!”

It was no more than Jonesy might have expected, given Slim’s righteous nature, but he believed fervently that the truth of friendship was strong enough to heal and reconcile differences. “He was tryin’ to save the good the man did in his life – in his office – in his service t’ the town.”

“And that man – a thief - who betrayed the oath he had taken - who deceived the people he served – who dishonoured the badge he wore ... that man was worth lying for?” Slim glowered at Jonesy as he were personally representing Sheriff Hatch.

“The truth ain’t always simple,” Jonesy pointed out from his long experience.

“The truth is always more important than anything else,” Slim asserted fiercely. “No-one should falsify what actually happened. D’you not remember I’ve already lived through that? There were enough lies about my father – your friend!”

“I know.” Jonesy’s long grief sounded then through the shrewd wisdom which usually coloured his voice. “I know what y’ had t’ go through. An’ I know what it’s cost t’ hold on t’ the truth of y’ pa’s integrity.”

“We’re the only ones.” Slim’s voice was suddenly broken by the weight sustaining this truth. “Everyone else knows the lie. He deserves more than that. He taught me to uphold truth and justice. I dishonour him if I do anything less.” He paused, his jaw clenched as if he was trying to stop his next words. “If Jess wanted to lie, he sure didn’t need to claim it was because the man was good. If his idea of good is choosing lies over the truth, then he has no place in this house.”

Jonesy frowned. “Slim, there are different kinds of good. Different kinds of fathers, too. Maybe Jess’s experience wasn’t like yours? Maybe he was lookin’ for the father he never had ... an’ maybe he was unlucky enough t’ see what he needed in someone who was gonna let him down. D’you really blame him for holdin’ on t’ what he believed was good in the man?”

“It was a lie!” Slim persisted stubbornly.

“It was all Jess had left,” Jonesy persisted equally stubbornly. “All he had left o’ someone he trusted. “

Silence settled between them.

Presently Jonesy gritted his teeth and went on: “We don’t know nothin’ about Jess’s past, ‘cept the tall tales he don’t mind spinnin’. But I tell y’ what I know from a long life, a life with men o’ all sorts in it. That young man ain’t comin’ from the kind of good folk you’re lucky t’ count as y’own. Maybe where Jess comes from sometimes the truth was worse’n the lie? Maybe sometimes the result of the truth was worse’n the lie too!”

He was much closer to Jess’s actual experience than he understood then. Sometimes instinct is more accurate than knowledge. But if Slim was moved by this appeal, he did not show it.

“Jess was wrong to lie!”

“Yeah, he knows that now,” Jonesy said.

Slim looked at him in amazement. “Then why didn’t he say so?”

“Did y’ give him a chance?” Jonesy asked sardonically, just as on the very first day he’d remarked on Slim’s meeting with Jess: “y’ acted real cordial?”

The question hung in the air between them.

Receiving no response, Jonesy went on, “Jess wanted t’ tell y’ how it was, not t’ make excuses. I told him he could trust you. That y’d always act right, not only by y’ principles but by y’ family an’ y’ friends.”

“Friends don’t lie to each other,” Slim whispered miserably.

“Jess ain’t lied t’ you. He trusted you with the truth of what he’d done. He wanted t’ be honest. T’ set things right and clear between y’.”

Slim shook his head desperately. “Such a lie, Jonesy! To a whole town. What for?”

“T’ save the integrity of the sheriff’s office an’ the people’s trust in the law?” Jonesy suggested.

“At the cost of the truth. What kind of price is that?”

“One you ain’t willing t’ pay,” Jonesy observed dryly. “You ain’t never told a lie an’ y’ ain’t never gonna tell one. That’s what y’ think now. But maybe y’ ain’t never needed to. Think about this, Slim. What would y’ have done for your pa? If y’ had to, would y’ lie for him or f’ Andy? Would y’ do it to save their lives? Or t’ keep alive the memory of all that’s good in them?”

The old man got stiffly to his feet and limped away to his bed. The young man sat in the darkness and silence for a long time. As if the porch enclosed all the problems of life ... and challenged you to answer them. As if darkness had swept through his heart as well as his mind and he was waiting for the light.


	4. Chapter 4

##  **4**

Flickering tongues of fire lit the darkness behind them. Not huge flames. Only a tiny indication of the fate of the Denver relay station and everyone in it. Not a conflagration. Just enough fire, carefully and strategically placed to scorch and suffocate and eventually kill those bound and gagged alongside it.

Jess did not look back. He could not afford to. He could not let Stronberg see him show the slightest hint of interest in the family the gang had left to die. But he was praying hard. Praying that a small sharp knife and a loosely knotted rope would be enough, would buy enough time.

Yet he was cursing at the same time. Fire destroyed homesteads and livelihoods and lives often enough without deliberate fire-raising. He hated and loathed and feared fire and the wielders of fire in equal measure.

And the pre-dawn darkness was nothing compared to the darkness within the mind of man.

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

Dawn slowly lit the sky with delicate tongues and fronds of pink and orange and crimson.

The stage would already be well on the road home.

_\- Can it be home? Can I let Jess go on living in my house? Can we ever see eye to eye again? –_

Thoughts raced around Slim’s head faster than the turning wheels of the stage.

Rising at his accustomed hour, Jonesy found Slim already on the porch. It looked as if he might have been there all night. He was leaning against the upright, his head bowed on his forearm. Jonesy frowned. Once or twice he had seen Jess stand there, surveying the road or taking stock of the herd in the corral. Once or twice he had seen Slim stand behind the younger man, his hand on the post as it was now. Not touching Jess. Just their relative positions subtly reflecting the physical unity with which they could act or react together. Probably neither of them was aware that this was becoming a characteristic stance.

Slim was evidently lost in his own thoughts, for he did not register Jonesy’s presence at all. Instead he continued to wrestle with his dilemma.

“I can’t understand it ... I don’t see how ... how could a trustworthy man act that way?”

He might have meant Jess. He might have meant the sheriff.

Jonesy scowled and decided some more home-truths were due. “Y’ can’t understand because y’ ain’t never made a big enough mistake, Slim Sherman. An’ I guess y’ve never been desperate in love, either, or y’d know it makes folk do powerful foolish things!” He paused and then said softly, “Sometimes wantin’ t’ be a good friend can do the same.”

Slim swung round abruptly, his face haunted by a pain and guilt he would not admit to. He was too late to answer. Jonesy had already gone back into the house to start his preparations for the day. It was an example which pulled Slim out of his strange mood and sent him automatically about his own daily routine.

All that day he clung to routine. Yet all that day, words hung in his mind like distant echoes of thunder from a storm threatening on the edge of perception. He could not shake off the understanding that Jonesy was not complimenting him when he declared: “You ain’t never made a mistake.” Much worse, Jess’s voice overlay Jonesy’s: “One mistake an’ a man’s condemned.” Deep in his heart, Slim knew Jess was speaking from personal experience and in his past life he had born more than his fair share of condemnation.

\- _Am I being unjust? –_ Slim had always been confident in his pursuit of justice. Now he was not so sure. He had offered to take a chance on Jess. Should he now turn him away from the ranch ... from the house ... from the family ... because of one deed which Jess apparently acknowledged to have been a mistake? – _Am I going to be the one to condemn him this time, to turn him down and turn him out? Again. –_

It was a question he could not answer. He was torn between his own integrity and his desire for this deepening friendship. He was haunted by the words he could not escape. All day. It was as if the coach rumbling inexorably towards the relay station drew with it a storm of darkness in which to cloak and confuse decision-making.

Slim little knew that the decisions governing the outcome of this approaching danger had already been made. He did not expect the stage with the payroll to reach the Sherman Relay Station until well into the evening at the earliest since to do the whole journey in a single day, even given the long summer hours of daylight, pushed all the limits. If conditions were unfavourable, the journey would have to continue through the night, and Slim knew he would need to be on the alert, with a team ready, if this were the case. As it turned out, he was crossing the yard to wash up at the end of his working day when his attention was caught by a cloud of dust whirling up at the top of the ridge towards Cheyenne.

A stage came hurling down at breakneck speed. Slim stared in amazement. He had never seen such driving by Mose, who loved the horses he drove and knew both their temperaments and their capabilities. A quick glance at the ridge showed that the stage was not being pursued by outlaws or Indians. Why then the need for such speed?

Nearer and nearer the stage thundered as if it had only just started instead of being almost at the end of the journey. Slim could see the foam-flecked lips and wet heaving sides of the foundering team drawing it. He could see the flick of the whip above their heads, driving them on full speed even though the relay station was so close. A wave of anger passed through him at the thought of the probable cost of such recklessness. It could not be Mose who was responsible. Then he saw.

It was Jess driving.

Almost before this registered in Slim’s mind, Jess was pulling the team up savagely and the stage halted in a great shower of grit and earth. But Slim went on noting almost automatically all the other discrepancies which told him there was something seriously amiss. For a start, the man riding shotgun next to Jess was a total stranger. So was one making up the pair in the rear seat with Silas. And looking inside, he could see that either there were passengers or they had, after all, picked up more guards in Denver or along the way.

It was all wrong. Nonetheless, Slim was in no position to take on at least five strangers on his own, particularly when his gun-belt was hanging on the pegs in the house. And he had to consider the risk to Andy and Jonesy who had rushed on to the porch, alerted by the noisy arrival. So he waited impassively to see what would happen.

It appeared that Jess was giving the orders. He turned to the man beside him and said, “Get down, Stronberg, or we’ll all think y’ afraid of a kid, an old man and a half-wit.”

Jess swung down from the driving seat, landing lightly eye to eye with a dumbfounded Slim. Slim’s state of mind was fortunately reflected in his face and something made him keep his expression blank with shock. In the split second they were face to face, he read something in Jess’s deep blue eyes – not an appeal, exactly, but an absolute belief and trust that, whatever happened next, Slim would back him up.

“Get movin’!” Jess’s hard hand slammed into Slim’s shoulder and propelled him towards the sweating, shaking team. Fingers tightened momentarily in an encouraging squeeze, before Jess was issuing more orders. “Get in the kitchen, old man, an’ take the kid with y’. We want a meal for six pronto! An’ don’t go tryin’ any heroics or you’ll both get it.”

“You learn quickly, Jess,” the man called Stronberg grinned as he jumped down from the stage. “But I’ll take charge of the kid. No doubt the other two are fond of him, aren’t they?”

Jess shrugged. “The old man ain’t related, so he don’t care a toss. Doubt if the other one’s got the brains. Where there’s no sense, there ain’t no feelin’. The kid ain’t that bright, either.”

Stronberg chuckled again. It took all Slim’s self-control to suppress a shudder at the gleeful sound. Trying desperately to divert attention from his family, he jerked suddenly into action and began to fumble deliberately with the harness.

“Leave it! We’re ditching the coach!” Stronberg snapped out.

“Not yet,” Jess responded. “There’s plenty o’ good places on the first plateau below Baxter’s Ridge. We can reach it easily from here, but we might as well have a fresh team. These are fit t’ be shot.”

It was true. Slim could not believe Jess had driven the team till they foundered. Another contradiction of what he thought were Jess’s principles. Jess, meanwhile, was still outlining plans.

“We’ll leave the crew in the coach. No point in havin’ them hangin’ around the place, gettin’ underfoot. I got trouble enough with this idiot, but at least he does what he’s told.”

A quick glance showed Slim that the original guards and Mose were tied up inside the stage. They were in for an uncomfortable wait. And, it soon transpired, an unpleasant fate.

As Silas was hauled off the back seat, tied up and shoved in with the others, Stronberg gloated: “And they can go over with the coach!” An evil satisfaction coloured his voice. “They certainly won’t be telling any tales on us. Inside now, boys, and make yourselves at home. Just take it in turns to keep an eye on our money and stay on the lookout. We don’t want to be caught with our mouths full, do we? Du forstår!”

“Ask Doran about that!” one of the men jibed as the four of them made haste to quit the coach.

“Food’ll be on the table soon,” Jess promised. “Or I’ll know why! You get inside an’ eat. I’ll make sure this idiot changes the teams.”

“He is that stupid?” Stronberg sneered.

“You bet he is!” Jess responded with an unpleasant laugh. “Hell, I have t’ run the whole place. Team’d be hitched back t’ front if he had anything to do with it!”

“Så. You have plenty of practice handling things here?” Stonberg grinned.

“Guess there ain’t any man Doran can’t ... handle!” someone quipped.

Guffaws echoed round the yard as the strangers made their way inside.

Slim remained stock still by the lead teamster. It wasn’t the staggering amount of lies Jess was telling which had frozen him in place. It wasn’t confusion over the developing situation, since it was pretty obvious that the stage had been taken over with the aim of stealing its cargo. It wasn’t the fact that these men knew Jess but called him by another name. Slim was acting as dumb as Jess had emphasised and stood still with his eyes fixed on the horse, while all his other senses were stretched to pick up what was going on. That first exchange of looks had alerted him. He waited to see what Jess would do next. He felt as well as heard familiar footsteps behind him.

Then a hard hand shoved him between the shoulder blades. “Get a move on! We ain’t gonna wait while y’ decide which buckle t’ undo!”

Together they unhitched the off-side pair, Slim working as slowly as he knew how without actually making it obvious he was stalling. They led the horses into the barn and the waiting stalls.

“Don’t waste time rubbin’ them down!” Jess ordered as Slim started to settle his horse. But as Jess led his charge into the stall next door, Slim heard the sound of Jess’s soothing murmur which quieted the exhausted animal and a contrite whisper: “Sorry, old fella, sorry!”

“You got everythin’ under control in here, Doran?” came a holler from the doorway. Evidently they were to be kept under some kind of surveillance, despite the lure of food.

“Sure! Just ain’t got the fastest help in the world. Save me some stew!”

“I suppose y’ reckon y’ve earned it,” the other man chuckled. “But Stronberg ain’t finished with your _services_ yet.”

“I want my cut!” Jess snarled. “Make sure y’boss remembers that! An’ I want my share of the grub!”

“Y’ll get both. Just as long as y’ keep givin’ satisfaction!”

There was something in the man’s tone which raised the hair on Slim’s neck. Jess however just shrugged and retorted: “Remember where my knife is.”

The man stumbled back in alarm, then turned from the doorway, trying to make it look as if he intended to head into the house, which he promptly did. Slim wondered what experience with Jess made him react so uneasily, but had no time to speculate as Jess was already hassling him to change the team.

“C’m on! Speed it up! We ain’t got till dawn.”

Jess stopped and waited for Slim to lead his horse out. As he did so, Jess brushed close and Slim felt a knife pressed into his hand. It was followed by a single word: “Mose!”

They led the replacement pair out to the stage and hitched them up. Jess went round the front of the team to start changing the other pair. Slim deliberately shambled along the far side of the coach as slowly as he could. He was hidden from the house by the body of the coach. Mose was next to the door. Slim eased the door open a fraction and applied the knife to the driver’s bonds, weakening but not severing them. Then he slipped it into Mose’s hands with the injunction: “Stay still. Follow Jess’s lead.”

“Get round here, will y’!” Jess yelled. “I ain’t gonna wait while you daydream!”

Slim continued to shamble past the rear of the coach and as slowly as possible took his turn at unhitching the second pair, which they replaced without incident. He was not sure whether Jess wanted to delay the coach or was simply making a point about how slow and stupid Slim was. Either way he was going to do his best to play along, at least for the moment when there seemed to be few other options. It was as well that he did, for one of the outlaws was stationed on the porch and covering the yard with his rifle.

“House!” Jess ordered briefly when they had completed the second changeover.

Inside the rest of the outlaws were making the most of Jonesy’s cooking. Andy was crouched in one of the rocking chairs by the fire. Jonesy was bringing more stew to the table. Jess gave Slim a shove which sent him staggering into the corner of the room. “Stay there! Keep still! At least I don’t need t’ tell y’ t’ keep y’r mouth shut since y’ dumb anyway!”

“He’s dumb as well as dumb?” Stronberg chortled.

Jess scowled. “I ain’t never heard him string two words together. Not that made any sense.”

He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. “Coffee! Black an’ plenty of it!” he ordered Jonesy curtly. When it arrived, he poured himself a cup and drank it off at once. Pouring a second and cradling it between his hands, he fixed Stronberg with an interrogatory stare.

“What’re y’ gonna do about the search party?”

“What search party?” Stronberg sounded surprisingly cool.

“The stage is due into Laramie tonight. When it don’t arrive they’re gonna start back-trackin’ t’ find out what’s happened.”

“They can’t expect it before midnight. Not at normal speed. We probably broke some kind of record coming over that old trail. And when they realise something’s gone wrong, they can’t tell where the stage went missing between here and Cheyenne – not without asking a lot of questions. That was the whole plan.”

“Yeah, but it would be better if they didn’t start askin’ at all. Not till nice and late tomorrow.”

Stronberg’s eyes gleamed. “You have something in mind.”

“Yeah. Send a message into town. Tell them an axle needed replacing three stops back and it can’t be fixed till daylight but the money’s still bein’ safely guarded. That’ll buy us at least an extra twelve hours, maybe more before they start worryin’. Then they’ll have to go the best part of fifty miles before they find the stage ain’t there. An’ after that they won’t know where t’ start lookin’ for it ‘cause it ain’t passed through any stations.”

“They would only accept a message from someone they knew,” Stronberg pointed out. “We can’t trust the guards or the driver. I suppose we could force one of these three,” he added thoughtfully.

“If the old man has t’ ride, he’ll drop dead round the first bend,” Jess told him, “and the kid won’t keep his mouth shut any more than the guards. But we do have a dumb fool who’ll follow orders if y’ yell at him enough. Write the message an’ he can deliver it.”

Stronberg shook his head. “The message needs to be written by someone they’d trust. Get the driver,” he ordered the man sitting next to him.

Jess was on his feet in an instant. “I’ll get one of the guards.”

“Get the driver!” Stronberg ordered. “He’s the most important one.”

The door banged shut behind Jess and very soon opened again as he shoved Mose into the room, with the injunction: “Y’re invited to the party, so mind y’ manners!”

Stronberg meanwhile had seated himself at Slim’s desk and found pen and ink. “Bring him over here.” When Mose was roughly dragged over to the desk the gang leader looked up and demanded: “Why have you cut his hands free?”

Slim held his breath.

“Well, he ain’t gonna be able t’ write with them tied, is he?” Jess pointed out as if addressing a five year old.

“Waste of good rope,” someone else muttered, but Stronberg apparently accepted the explanation, much to Slim’s and, no doubt, Jess’s relief.

Once the note was written, Mose was tied up again and manhandled back to the stage. So much for their efforts to free him! Slim did not have much time to regret this, since they were now all out in the yard and he was now the focus of everyone’s attention.

“Start yelling!” Stronberg instructed Jess.

Jess shook his head. “I’ll yell when he’s on his horse facin’ t’ Laramie. He’ll forget else.”

“Ja. See to it. I’ll finish off the old man and the kid, then we can get moving.”

Slim’s blood ran cold as ice but he fought down his instinct to leap in and protect Andy and Jonesy. The odds were still too great. He had to trust Jess in this.

“No y’ won’t!” Jess retorted coolly.

“And how do you propose to stop me?” The formal, civilised question was at odds with the sneering tone in which it was delivered. Behind Stronberg, his men had gathered in a threatening line.

“I ain’t. I’m gonna make sure things go accordin’ t’ plan. When the search party ride past on the way t’ find the stage, everything here has t’ look normal, so they don’t stop an’ ask questions too soon. That’s why I’ll be comin’ back here, lettin’ them loose and makin’ sure they don’t talk or give away the stage was ever here. Tied ‘em up but cut out the fire-raisin’!”

For several long minutes, Stronberg considered this. Eventually he nodded. “Very well. Do it. I think after last night we can count you as one of my boys. But you’ll ride after us as soon as the party passes. Catch up if you want your cut. Du forstår!”

“You bet I do!” Jess snarled. “I ain’t had my share of the food and I ain’t gonna miss out on my share o’ the money!”

With that, he hustled Slim over to the barn once more. Together they saddled Alamo, Jess keeping up a commentary of criticism and curses all the while. Only once they were ready did any meaningful communication pass between them and it was not spoken aloud. Jess just looked hard at the rifle rack against the back wall, then at the coach, and gestured a semi-circle with one hand. After which he dragged mount and man into the yard, yelled several times that the message was for the bank manager and sent the pair off down the road with a final swat across Alamo’s quarters.

Galloping away in the direction of the town, Slim was praying fervently everything would go exactly as Jess had planned.


	5. Chapter 5

##  **5**

The stage thundered up the road towards the junction with the trail to Baxter’s Ridge. The horses were going flat out, urged on by the Texan madman who was driving. The accompanying riders were half choked by its dust and even challenged by its speed, especially as Jess had saddled up for them the slowest horses on the Sherman ranch. He’d also made shift to conceal the best saddles, using only those which the ranch had pensioned off or acquired because someone had not wanted them and left them behind. So the horses were not very comfortable, a fact which Jess sincerely regretted. Neither were the riders, but he had no regrets whatsoever about that. Inside the coach Mose and the guards were taking a battering from the speed and bouncing of the stage, but it was a small price to pay for being rid of their captors.

Jess swung the stage onto the ridge trail at such a pace that the two strongboxes under the driver’s seat slid wildly from one side to the other. It was only with difficulty he had persuaded Stronberg not to force them open at the relay station on the grounds that the wreckage of the coach would conceal them better. Stronberg wanted to keep his eye on his loot and had insisted the boxes were up front and not inside the coach as before. So they continued to slide and crash and hit Jess’s shins with every rut in the trail. Strangely this pain and impediment only made him grin to himself.

After a few miles the trail climbed to the top of the first pass and a plateau, bordered by a gorge with several conveniently overhanging bluffs. Jess pulled up, but not anywhere near the edge. Instead he elected to stop in a small patch of woodland, which would hide their activities from view.

“Good choice, my young friend,” Stronberg complimented him. “Now get those boxes down.”

“Sure!”

Before anyone else could make a move, Jess stood up, lifted the first box above his head and hurled it as far as he could into the surrounding scrub. There was a resounding crash and a cloud of dust rising above the concealing leaves.

“What the hell! Get after it! Raskt! Raskt!”

The other men leaped into the undergrowth, just as Jess threw the other chest over their heads.

“Are you crazy, kid?”

Stronberg scrambled onto the step and lunged for Jess, catching him by the shirt, which promptly ripped. This sent the pair of them tumbling and rolling several yards away from the coach. They both struggled to their feet, winded and gasping for breath.

“Hey, boss, c’m ‘ere! Y’ ain’t gonna believe this!”

“What?”

As Stronberg hastened to join his men, all their attention was focused on the strongboxes in the bushes. They totally ignored Jess and the stage behind him. The next second there was a furious yell.

“Where the hell is my money!”

In the silence which answered him came the click of a rifle bolt.

“You lost something, Stronberg?” Jess enquired in tones of satisfied amusement.

Stronberg shoved his way out of the bushes and came to a dead stop. Slim Sherman was standing shoulder to shoulder with Jess. A rifle and a gun were aimed at the gang leader.

“You can’t want to cut him in?” Stronberg said incredulously.

Jess shook his head. “We want everything, undivided. So thrown down your weapons!”

“There ain’t no money!” one of the gang reported dazedly as they emerged to join their leader. “The boxes are full of ash ‘n cinders.”

“Yeah. That’s all y’ get for settin’ fire t’ good folk!” Jess told them grimly. “By rights it should be your ashes!”

“Why you -!” Stronberg lunged at Jess again and was slammed across the chest by Slim’s rifle.

“Keep your hands up,” Slim ordered calmly.

“You can speak, can you?”

“And make sense,” was the cool retort. “Tell your men to drop their weapons.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Stronberg snarled. He immediately went for his gun, but even as he moved, two shots rang out together. One from Jess neatly spun the gun out of his hand. The other, coming from behind him, ricocheted off the brake handle and lodged by chance in Jess’s arm. Simultaneously five rifles more appeared in the windows of the stage in the hands of Mose and the guards.

“No. You are outnumbered. Drop your weapons.”

If it had come to a shoot-out it might have been a near thing, but the gang members knew Jess’s speed and could see the odds against them. They were obviously not prepared to risk it and soon complied. Stronberg ground his teeth in rage and swore copiously in his own tongue, but in the end had no option but to surrender.

“Guess it’s a good job you ain’t dividin’ the money, since y’ so bad at countin’!” Jess grinned, busy tying up his enemy and totally ignoring the blood now seeping through his sleeve.

The guards collected the dropped weapons and secured the gang, who were then bundled into the coach in their turn. If they didn’t take too much care who fell where, they could hardly be blamed after many hours of acute discomfort and immobility. Stronberg continued protesting to the last.

“Those boxes have been guarded all the way. Where the hell is that payroll?”

Jess grinned at him. “The payroll ain’t never been on board.”

“It must have been.”

“Not after the Denver relay station. I picked the locks an’ swapped the contents while I was changin’ the team there. You were busy plannin’ y’ fun firelightin’.” His total disgust rang out loud and clear.

“At least that stupid family paid for your treachery!”

“ ‘Fraid not. The knots y’ made me tie were easily busted! Du forstår?”

Stronberg was so apoplectic with rage he could not speak. It was left to Slim to ask what they all wanted to know.

“So where is the money now?” Slim asked curiously, quite sure Jess would not have just left it lying around in a relay station barn.

“It’ll be comin’ along on the first stage tomorrow.”

“You mean you’re risking the payroll and all that cash to an ordinary stage?”

“Not exactly. It’s comin’ in disguise,” Jess grinned. “Hidden under some mighty pretty underwear in two carpet bags picked up from the barn by a very reliable young lady.”

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

“You did what?”

“I lied.”

There was a sense of déjà vu about conversation that ensued after their return to the Sherman Relay Station.

As soon as they arrived, they had immediately freed Andy and Jonesy, who had been tied up so savagely there were rope burns. Jonesy dealt with these quickly and then demanded to know why Jess had a bandanna and part of his shirt tied round his arm.

“Ain’t nothin’,” Jess asserted untruthfully. “Just took a ricochet bullet.”

Jonesy scowled and was about to argue, but instead sent Andy hurrying for clean linen and the surgical tools. Jess was tough enough, they all knew, to hold on a while longer. Meanwhile the conversation was driven by Slim’s determination to get as quickly as possible to the bottom of this whole affair and Jess’s mysteriously influential part in it.

“You lied and they believed you?”

“Y’ saw they did.”

“Why should they trust you?” Slim’s question was loaded with more than curiosity.

Jess looked grim. “Ran into Kurt Stronberg an’ his gang a long time ago. I saved his skin at the poker table once. Reckon he counted that as trustworthy.” There was no way he was going to relive the consequences of this encounter by sharing it with anyone, not even Jonesy. Certainly not Slim. Not yet.

“But what did you tell them?” Slim still couldn’t understand how Jess had fooled the gang.

“Said I knew another road from Cheyenne and a place they could easily get horses.”

Chuckles filled the air from Mose and the other guards.

“And they took your word it would be simple?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure did!” Mose put in with a broad grin. “Tell him like it was, Jess!”

Jess did not look quite as amused as the others, but reckoned it was worth Slim’s wrath to divert him from the real reason for the gang’s belief in his membership of it.

“Said the place was run by an old man and a boy and –“

“And what?” Slim demanded, knowing by the grins of the other men that he was not going to like the answer.

“An’ a complete fool who was too stupid to know his ass from his armpit,” Jess informed him. “Fortunately for me, y’ were quick enough t’ pick up my hints and fast enough gettin’ those rifles to the stage.”

“Fortunately!” Slim considered Jess thoughtfully. The gleam in his eye suggested there would be a reckoning to come.

“Yeah and we were lucky t’ have Jess in the crew,” Mose declared. “If it hadn’t been for his quick thinkin’ an’ the way he can convince y’ black is white, we’d all be dead an’ so would those good folk at the relay station.”

“He sure is the hero!” one of the others affirmed.

\- _A hero telling heroic lies?_ – It certainly didn’t help Slim’s confused state any.

“Yeah and he’s a hero drippin’ blood on the rug,” Jonesy reminded them brusquely, pointing to the evidence. “Now git him on that table an’ hold him down, ‘cause I ain’t gonna let him go any longer with a bullet in him!”

“Can’t I just sit in the chair?” Jess demanded querulously.

“No.” Jonesy was immovable. “I need t’ see what I’m doin’.”

“I gotta see t’ those horses –“

“Quit stallin’, Jess!”

“You know Mose’ll see to the ones you drove before he goes,” Slim reassured Jess, at the same time putting both hands on his chest and pushing him towards the table, where Andy had meanwhile spread clean towels and sheets.

“Shirt off,” Jonesy commanded. “Unless y’ want it even more ripped than it is.”

Jess looked down at the tattered remnant of what had once been quite a decent shirt. “Might as well rip it off!” he admitted with a wry grin.

He hadn’t bargained for Slim doing so. Strong hands grasped the linen on either shoulder and tore the shirt in half. Slim hadn’t bargained for the momentary sense of power it gave him, nor for suddenly standing so close to a bare-chested Jess, with his hands still on the other man’s shoulders. There was an infinitesimal pause before he pushed Jess towards the table with the order: “Get on there and stay still!”

\- _Thought y’d never ask! -_ Jess gulped hard to stop from speaking the words and complied, taking care to do so with a long-suffering expression.

“Guess y’ don’t need an audience for this,” Mose observed. “We’ll be gettin’ along. Plenty more t’ do tonight – rubbin’ horses down, dumpin’ outlaws with the sherrif an’ explainin’ to the bank manager where his money’s got to. Sure y’ don’t wanna give him the news y’self, Jess?”

“Yeah, comin’ right with y’!”

Jess tried to struggle up but Slim applied all his superior weight to pin him firmly to the table. “Oh no you don’t!”

Mose grinned and there were chuckles from the rest of the crew. “We’ll leave y’ where y’ started from, then.”

At this Slim’s head went up and he frowned suddenly. Under his hands he had felt a shiver go through Jess.

But Mose evidently wanted to make sure they all knew how much was owed to Jess and added seriously, “We all gotta thank y’, Jess. If you hadn’t been able t’ string that gang along, we wouldn’t be standin’ here right now.”

“Yeah? Well y’ takin’ up valuable space standin’ round an injured man,” Jonesy told them firmly. “Get outta my way an’ get goin’!” He chivvied them out through the door before returning to the business of extracting the bullet from Jess’s arm.

There followed an unpleasant interval. To keep the patient still, Slim braced his weight with one hand against the shoulder on the uninjured side. With the other he gripped Jess’s hand on the same side in a firm clasp of silent support. Andy held the lamp for Jonesy. Jonesy probed carefully until he was able get a purchase on the bullet and ease it out.

Once Jess was bandaged up, inserted into a new shirt and seated at the scrubbed table, Jonesy set about producing coffee and food for them all.

“Where’d this come from?” Slim asked in surprise, knowing five demanding men had already been fed that night.

“Y’ don’t think I’d risk tryin’ t’ starve Jess Harper, do y’?” Jonesy replied, sardonic as always. “I figure those five only ate half his share!”

Slim gave a slight smile at this and Andy laughed joyously, full of relief at Jess’s return and the restoration of normality. The atmosphere relaxed a little because they all appreciated being able to sit safely round the table once again, even if it was due to Jess’s somewhat unorthodox protection of the payroll. Nonetheless, Jonesy kept a close and concerned eye on the two young men. The tension between them had not yet been fully resolved.

Presently, sure enough, Slim leaned back in his chair and fixed his employee with a stern and serious stare.

“So you can run the whole place single-handed, can you?”

Jess lifted his injured arm, which was resting in the sling Jonesy had forced on him despite his objections. “Well, I’ve only got one hand now.”

“And you’re going to, are you?”

Jess raised an eyebrow and said with a touch of his usual humour, “Sure, if y’ pay me the boss’s wages!”

“And you’re worth those wages?”

Jess stilled, his expression becoming equally serious. He looked Slim straight in the eye and affirmed quietly, “Gonna try t’ be worth whatever y’ pay me – so I'm worth bein’ part of this place.”

Slim looked steadily back, his confusion and indecision considerable eased by this simple statement.

“Okay, then. We’ll have to see if you’re satisfactory.”

A sudden strange look flashed across Jess’s face, too swiftly for the others to notice. He appeared to be thinking hard. Then he nodded his acceptance. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jonesy let out the breath he had been holding. It was a truce. What would grow from it remained to be seen.

**> >>>> * <<<<<**

Fortunately the repeat of the nightmare was as silent as before.

Jess made it out of the house before he threw up.

He spent the rest of the night in the barn once again, finally creeping indoors in the pre-dawn twilight.

Next morning no-one knew.

* * *

  * It is acknowledged that this story is based on characters and episodes from _Laramie._




End file.
